Catalpa Tree In The District

once I loved a catalpa tree

because its leaves stirred heart shaped in the wind

and it was outside the window my only window

living in a yellow house in just one room, an amiable renter, and

sometimes on a screened in porch 

where the sun turned my rose spined books a faint pink

and my newsprint map taped up of where the heart spent refugees went

that was when I loved even more than the whiff of lilac on the wind,

the story of emigres who learned to live in books;

the legends of swans.

I saved my coins and went to the ballet

and dreamed then, a different choreography for my life

and like St. Francis I believed that it was right

all things should shine my sister, my brother.

sometimes I still believe that.

it has been a long time now

since the workmen came and sawed the tree down to the ground

where its orphaned birds fluttered around the stump;mystified

why should it die

because it soared and spread its heart helplessly over the wires;

there was no warning

but what would they say

we have come to kill the catalpa tree today>

the city sent us.

mary angela douglas 8 october 2021